NASEEM LEFT HER sanctuary beside the spring and started to walk in the direction of the voices. It wasn’t easy to find her way around in the pitch-dark environs of the cave. The sounds coming from outside were her only guide. She could clearly make out the screams of the women and children, and the bellows of the bandits as they showered abuse on the hapless victims.
She paused for a brief moment, sensing the dangers lurking just outside the cave. But the Baba’s dagger gave her a sense of confidence. Reaching into her salwar, she took the dagger out of its sheath and continued on her path.
She paused again, regretting her foolishness. How could she abandon the Baba in that condition and just walk away from him? She took a few steps back, unsure of the direction of her next step. ‘Oh God! Save me please! Help me!’ The cries for help strengthened her resolve and she started to walk in their direction.
She was in a daze, knowing that she was walking straight into danger, mindful and yet unable to stop herself. With each step forward, she was crying, ‘Oye Aziz … O Rukman bhabi… Bhaaji … Bhaaji … where are you?’
Her shouts were meaningless. She found herself stumbling, bumping against the rocks as she made her way out of the cave. Her body was shaking like a leaf in a storm, her mind at a complete loss. On the one hand, she was mortified that she had left the Baba on his own and on the other, she was worried sick about the fate of her family. She ran like a maniac, oblivious of the risk that she could stumble into some unknown crevice, never to be found again.
Somewhere in the distance, she could see a pair of mashaals move rapidly in her direction. Naseem’s eyes followed the patches being lit up by their flames. She saw big, fearsome looking characters using their spears, swords, axes to gore or hack down anyone they encountered in their path. She saw an elderly woman cowering in a corner, clutching three small children close to her bosom. A young girl hid behind her, trying to make herself invisible in the shadows. They were spotted by a sword-wielding man and in the flash of an eye, the older woman and children had been reduced to a pile of shapeless corpses. The girl was picked up by a pair of muscular arms and carried off into the darkness.
Naseem found a wedge-shaped boulder that allowed her to watch the unfolding carnage without fear of being spotted by the marauders. The sound of running feet. Huddled bodies illuminated by a passing mashaal. The flash of metal. Cries of terror. A sudden deathly silence. Young women being hauled away on brawny shoulders, legs flailing helplessly. Screams falling on deaf ears. Trunks, baggage, bundles and other loot piled up for distribution. Corpses of men and women kicked around and searched. Earrings and necklaces ripped off the lifeless bodies. Pockets turned inside out and emptied. Clothes torn off to find cash and jewellery tucked away in the folds. A whoop of joy as a man’s waistcoat or a woman’s salwar yielded an unexpected treasure. Bundles of currency. Gold coins twinkling in the moonlight.
The swords and spears were used with such violence that the victim was usually dead in the first blow. A scream, a moan and then silence. The group following the first lot kept its eye on the bodies. A twitch or whimper and they would return to stab the victim and make sure that he was dead. It was like they had sworn that there would be no survivors from the pathways leading into the cave.
Naseem felt her body go numb with horror as she witnessed the slaughter of the innocent souls. Her head was spinning and her eyelids heavy as she allowed her body to lean against the boulder. She closed her eyes and sank to her knees.
She had no idea how long she stayed in that condition. She tried to move her body, but it refused to pay heed to her commands. When she willed her eyes to open, she could see the early light of pre-dawn filtering into the entrance of the cave. In the distance, she could see a pile of clothes burning in a dark plume of smoke. It wasn’t clear if someone had deliberately set them on fire or the fire was the result of a carelessly abandoned mashaal. Patches of grass had taken a reddish hue from large pools of blood. In other places, it had blended into the previous night’s rain to form ugly maroon puddles. Naked bodies lay strewn around the uneven tracks, limbs left battered by the violence. There was no sign of any of the marauders. They had completed their gruesome mission and vanished into the night.
Naseem closed her eyes again. She was still in a daze, unsure if she had actually seen what she thought she had. Or maybe it was just an ugly nightmare that would go away. Was she alive? Or was it her spirit that was now roaming the area?
When she opened her eyes again, the fire from the pile of clothes had subsided. The soft glow of dawn had become a little brighter.
She rose to her feet and started to walk towards the glow. She was still in a stupor. She felt that her brain had ceased to work, unable to comprehend or reason. Her legs carried her out of the cave on their own volition. Encountering the crisp morning breeze as she stepped into the open, she found herself regaining her senses.
She walked for a short while up the rocky track leading away from the cave. It was still fairly cloudy and the sun hadn’t yet made its appearance. But there was enough light to make out the boulders lying in the direction of the road.
From a distance, she could hear the sound of raised voices. An argument, it seemed. ‘My brothers! You are Muslims, and so are we. In the name of Allah and his Prophet, we beg you to let these poor wretches live. They’ve already seen their homes being destroyed. What do you get by taking their lives? You’ll be better off taking all their belongings. Carry away whatever they have.’
In response, a voice could be heard cursing, ‘Who says you are Muslims? You are kafirs. Nothing but kafirs helping other kafirs. Now get lost or we’ll make sure not one of you sees another day.’ Three or four men took a step forward and trained their guns on the group confronting them.
Naseem couldn’t believe her ears. She was livid that her brave young escorts were walking into a trap that had been laid out for them by the marauders. They were trying to negotiate with the leaders of the mob to spare the lives of their wards, oblivious about the massacre that had already been carried out near the caves.
The marauders had played a clever hand. A large part of their horde had taken a different route to hide in the vicinity of the cave and set upon their hapless victims as soon as they arrived. Their sanctuary, in effect, had become a death trap. A smaller group from the horde, meanwhile, had come down the road from the hills to engage the escorts in meaningless discussions and keep them away from the cave while their compatriots went about the slaughter.
A long, painful sigh escaped Naseem’s lips. She wanted to do something to warn her escorts and was trying to figure out the best way to do this when the squabble between the two sides escalated. Most of the escorts decided that it would be suicidal to take a stand against the opposing force. They could see that the marauders were not only armed with rifles, pistols and other weapons, but also had a few members sporting distinct army attire. Naseem had also seen their heavy army boots and long woollen coats and arrived at the same conclusion.
The ranks of the protectors depleted quickly and in minutes, only four or five were left standing to face a group of some forty or fifty. They made short work of the brave-hearts, shouting ‘Ya Allah, Ya Ali!’ and disappeared into the forest.
Who were these men who had died at the hands of the marauders? Naseem couldn’t see their faces but she surmised with a shudder that they must be from her own family or from the group that had come with them from Chakri. She thought of making the trek up to the road to make sure. But that would take a while. More important to go and find the Baba, she reasoned, as she hurried back towards the cave.
Walking back, she realized that she was still holding the dagger that the Baba had given her to protect her honour. Now that the marauders had all left, she felt safe enough to return it to its sheath and tuck it into her salwar. Her feet picked up pace and she was soon running to the entrance of the cave.
As she entered the cave, her mind started to process everything she had seen. Where was Rukman bhabi? And Boote Shah? And where had Aziz disappeared? She hadn’t seen any of them. Had they managed to follow her and find a safe hiding place in the caves? Or had they also perished at the hands of those devils?
The sun had risen and broken free of the clouds. Its light allowed Naseem to see everything more clearly and as she looked at the carnage surrounding her, a dense fog once again started to cast its shadow on her mind. She heard herself wail and cry out the names of each member of her family as her feet flew over the bumpy tracks in the cave. She found herself skirting around bodies, leaping over them, looking for any clues that might reveal the presence of her loved ones. But her cries merely bounced off the heartless rocks, returning to her as multiple echoes reverberating through her skull.
She kept shouting names as she ran, peering closely at every corpse on the way to see if it were a familiar face. Finding none, she decided to concentrate on finding the one whom she had left resting in a safe place. ‘Bapuji! Bapuji! Where are you, Bapuji?’ She screamed at the top of her voice but to no avail. She ran wherever she thought she might find that small spring, stopping every few steps to see if she could hear its gurgling waters. But there was no sound at all. Nothing.
Every step took her deeper into a state of despair. There was no sign of Aziz, nor of Boote Shah and Rukman. And now, she couldn’t even find her beloved Bapuji. Which way should she turn? Who could she ask? The cave appeared to extend till infinity. She might keep walking for ever and still not find its end.
Her throat was hoarse from all the shouting and her legs could no longer carry her. Her frail body was collapsing under the cumulative effect of lack of sleep and utter fatigue from the night’s exertions. She wasn’t sure how she stumbled. Maybe she accidently tripped over a body or bumped her foot against a stone. But she was unconscious the moment she hit the ground with a thud.